love the way you hurt me
by splendidlyimperfect
Summary: Sting joined the fight club because the pain makes him feel alive. Then he fights Rogue and realizes that he enjoys being hurt in a very different way.


It takes approximately six seconds and a black eye for Sting to fall in love with Rogue.

"You're in my Lit class, aren't you?" Rogue asks, which Sting thinks is a pretty ridiculous question for someone spitting blood on the floor.

"Maybe?" Sting blinks a few times to clear his vision, jaw still throbbing from the last punch Rogue threw. It was a solid hit, and Sting's not quite ready to admit that it was because he was distracted by the way Rogue's hair curled around the back of his neck.

"You are," Rogue says, smirking at him and bringing their hands back up in front of their face. "Monday mornings. You always look like shit – guess I know why, now."

Sting shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and steps out of the way of Rogue's next punch, turning and slamming his elbow into Rogue's side. Rogue grunts but recovers quickly, sliding their foot between Sting's legs and kicking out his ankle. Sting barely manages to catch his balance and shoves Rogue away from him, breathing heavily from both the fight _and _the fact that he just touched Rogue's bare chest.

"Hey!" Natsu shouts from somewhere in the group that's crowded around them. "Less foreplay, more fighting!"

"Fuck you!" Sting shouts back, throwing a right hook that Rogue blocks with both arms.

"Fuck them!" Natsu replies, and Sting's glad that his cheeks are already red, because he's really not opposed to the suggestion. If the grin on Rogue's face is anything to go by, they don't seem to mind either.

"C'mon, prettyboy," Rogue taunts, raising his eyebrows and slipping in close. "I know you can do better than that."

Sting growls, throwing himself forward and slamming his shoulder against Rogue's. It catches Rogue by surprise, and they let out a sharp breath, but then they spin around and wrap one arm around Sting's neck. "Nice try," they whisper in his ear as they squeeze, their chest pressed up against Sting's back.

"That's…" Sting gasps, digging his fingers into Rogue's forearm as he tries to suck in a breath. Luckily this isn't his first time at the sparring club, and he's gotten out of worse spots with bigger opponents. Sting drives his elbow backward into Rogue's stomach, and when Rogue lets out a grunt of pain, Sting drops low, grabbing Rogue's forearm with both hands and jerking his shoulder foreword.

Rogue makes a particularly satisfying sound as they tumble over Sting's shoulder and land on the ground, breathed knocked out of them in a sharp gasp. Sting quickly pivots and drops to one knee, wrapping his arm around Rogue's so it's pulled taught across his thigh.

"How's that for 'better?'" Sting asks as Rogue curses at him. "And you were so close. You gonna tap out?" He puts a tiny bit more pressure on Rogue's arm and Rogue growls at him, then quickly shifts onto their hip and reaches up with their other hand, grabbing a handful of Sting's hair.

The slight pain of Rogue tugging his hair is enough to surprise Sting into letting go, and Rogue grins, pulling Sting close and whispering, "I can do this all night," in his ear before knocking out his leg and flipping him onto his stomach.

_Oh, fuck, _Sting thinks as he hits the ground hard, breath escaping from as he grunts in pain. Rogue twists Sting's arm behind his back, shifting so he's nearly straddling Sting's ass and pushing his face into the mat.

"Now who's tapping out?" Rogue murmurs, leaning over Sting and pressing on his arm just enough to send another sharp pang through his body. The pain is exhilarating – a living thing that sparks through Sting's bones and dances across his skin. Moments like this make him remember why he joined this club in the first place. The breathless rush and the bruises and split lips make Sting feel more alive than anything else in the world.

"I get it," Rogue says, breath hot against Sting's cheek. "You like it when it hurts."

"Shit," Sting gasps, realizing suddenly that the tingling sensation in his body isn't just from the adrenaline, and he's already embarrassingly wet. Rogue's leg is tucked between Sting's thighs, and it takes everything Sting has not to grind down against it.

"Why don't you give up?" Rogue suggests, and this time their lips brush the edge of Sting's ear. "I like you like this, but I'd rather see your face when I do this to you." They dig their fingernails into the underside of Sting's wrist, and Sting can't help the shudder that courses through his whole body.

"Yes," he whispers as he taps his hand against the mat twice. "Fuck, yes."

* * *

Five minutes later Sting's pushed up against the wall in the alley behind the building, concrete scraping his back as Rogue groans into his mouth.

"Fuck," Rogue pants, bare chest trembling as they press against each other. Sting grabs the back of Rogue's leather jacket, sliding his other hand down to Rogue's ass and pulling them close to grind against their thigh. Rogue's got one hand in Sting's hair, pulling on it just enough to hurt, and the other is gripping Sting's hip, digging their nails into his skin.

"Want you," Sting gasps, biting down on Rogue's lip and licking away the blood. It's intoxicating – he feels high, like the only thing tethering him to the earth is the sharp sparks of pain that Rogue's giving him everywhere.

"Yes," Rogue says, pressing their hips forward and grinding against Sting. "Now—can… is it…"

"Fuck me," Sting begs, grabbing the hand that's on his hip and moving it to the button on his jeans. "Please, I need…"

Rogue's fingers are quick and soon their hand is slipping into Sting's boxers, fingers brushing against his clit before asking, "What's okay?"

"Everything," Sting groans, shifting so that Rogue's fingers are pressed against his cunt. "I need you, want you—your fingers, cock, anything, I need you in me, fuck me, please."

Rogue groans, slipping their fingers into Sting's cunt and moving down to bite his neck. "You're so wet already," they breathe, pressing their thumb against Sting's clit and thrusting in gently. "Oh my god."

"Harder." Sting drags his nails down Rogue's back and shifts his hips, fucking himself down onto Rogue's fingers. "Yes, fuck, like—like that."

Rogue licks at the bite mark on Sting's neck, then moves to his collarbone, slowly sucking a dark mark into Sting's skin as they finger him harder. Sting bites back a cry, tipping his head back against the wall as he fumbles with the button on Rogue's pants.

It only takes a second for Sting to push Rogue's pants down their thighs and stroke their cock, running his thumb over the head as Rogue's fingers work him open. Rogue moans against Sting's skin, forehead pressed to Sting's shoulder as they jerk their hips forward into his grip.

"Need you," Sting says, tipping Rogue's head up and kissing them fiercely. When he pulls back, there's a smear of blood in the corner of Rogue's mouth from Sting's split lip. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Rogue growls, kissing Sting again, licking into Sting's mouth as they fuck their fingers into him, harder and faster, until Sting can barely breathe.

"Please," Sting begs, trying to focus enough to keep stroking Rogue's cock.

"You want me to fuck you?" Rogue asks, voice rough, and Sting nods frantically. "Here?"

"Yes, Christ, yes," Sting begs, grinding his clit against the palm of Rogue's hand. His whole body is hot, sparking with pain and pleasure and a desperate need for Rogue's cock inside him. "I have—condom, my back pocket."

Rogue manages to keep their fingers inside Sting as they fumble with the condom, tearing it open and rolling it one one-handed. Then they grab at Sting's thigh and nudge it up, slipping their fingers out and pulling Sting close.

"Good?" Rogue asks, waiting for a nod before pressing the head of their cock against Sting's cunt. Sting inhales sharply, grabbing a handful of Rogue's hair and pulling hard as Rogue thrusts into him.

"Holy shit," Rogue groans, forehead dropping to Sting's shoulder as they pull out slowly and press back in again, slower this time. "Shit, that—_hhnnn_, god, you're so warm, and t-tight…"

Rogue's voice is low and rough, desperately alternating between moans and filthy words that make Sting shiver. Sting tugs on Rogue's hair, tipping their head to the side so he can drag his teeth across their throat. His bare back scrapes against the wall, sharp and painful, and when Rogue presses their hand against the forming bruise on Sting's hip, Sting cries out and bites down on Rogue's neck.

"You okay?" Rogue asks quickly, but Sting just nods, shifting his hips so he can open himself wider to Rogue.

"Yes, gods," Sting groans, gasping when Rogue presses on the bruise again.

"I was right," Rogue murmurs, thrusting harder into Sting. "You really like it when it hurts."

Sting nods frantically, scraping his fingernails across Rogue's scalp. "Yes, please, please…"

"Please what?" Rogue asks. "Hurt you?"

"Yes."

Rogue digs his nails into Sting's hip, bringing their other hand up to Sting's throat and pressing down lightly. "Shit," Rogue hisses, slamming Sting harder against the wall. "You get so tight when I do that. C'mere."

Rogue slides their hand under Sting's other thigh and picks him up easily, wrapping Sting's legs around their waist and grinding up into him. Sting pulls Rogue into a kiss again, moaning into Rogue's mouth as Rogue fucks into him over and over.

"Fuck," Rogue whispers, movements becoming shaky and erratic. "I'm close but I don't wanna stop."

"My place isn't—_ahhh_—isn't far from here," Sting says as Rogue slips one hand down to rub his clit. "We can—"

"Yes," Rogue breathes. "Yeah, I wanna—fuck, I wanna do so many things to you; wanna… hnn, wanna eat you out, lick you and suck you until you can't m-move…" He drives into Sting harder, groaning at the desperate, pleading sounds Sting's making. "Wanna bend you over and fuck you from b-behind, slap your ass while I—nngnn—fuck you."

"Jesus Christ," Sting moans as he feels himself lose control. "Sh-shit, yes, I… fuck, I'm gonna come, I…"

And then he can't make any more words because he's coming so hard that his vision goes black as Rogue shudders against him, gasping and whispering curses into his ear. The feeling goes on and on, racing through his body and lighting up all the spots of pain – his swollen jaw, his bruised ribs, the tiny cuts across the back of his knuckles.

By the time Sting's able to breathe properly again, Rogue's trembling, barely holding Sting up against the wall. They slowly lower him back to the ground, pressing their foreheads together as they exhale slowly.

"Holy shit," Sting whispers, shuddering as Rogue pulls out of him. "That…"

Rogue interrupts him with another kiss, softer than the others, as they tug up Sting's pants and fumble with the button.

"'s okay," Sting says shakily, running his hand through Rogue's hair and pulling back to give them a coy smile. "They're just gonna be on the floor again in a few minutes."

Rogue raises an eyebrow and Sting nods past their shoulder at the block of apartments across the street. "Told you, I live close."

"Mm." Rogue runs their thumb over the bruise on Sting's jaw, then grabs his hand and tugs him away from the wall. "Let's go," they say, giving him the same cocky grin that they'd given him in the ring.

Sting follows without question, sliding his fingers between Rogue's as they dart across the street and in the front door of the building. Sting is barely in the apartment when Rogue slams the door shut and grabs Sting by the hips, pushing him back toward the bedroom.

"Off," Rogue says, tugging at Sting's shirt and pants and pulling off their own jacket. They shove Sting back onto the bed, settling between his legs and running their hands down the bruises and scrapes that cover Sting's chest.

"Now," Rogue murmurs, scraping their nails across one of the bruises and staring at Sting intently. "Where should we begin?"


End file.
